


Seven Devils (All Around You)

by joidianne4eva



Series: Seven Devils [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as Ian was concerned not talking about his past issues was fine because he had his pills and his therapy sessions. He knew his demons by name and he’d be damned before he ended up like Monica. </p><p>The sad fact was even with all his expertise Ian still missed the fact that he wasn’t the only one suffering and now he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Devils (All Around You)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Cougars_Catnip for reading this one through for me. I can't stress the warning enough though.

Ian wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or angry about the fact that most of his family avoided talking about his illness. They didn’t mention his manic phases, didn’t talk about what he’d done or who he’d done it with. They sure as hell didn’t talk about the three weeks he spent almost comatose.

It was like they thought that just mentioning it would bring the whole thing back like some monster that hid under the bed until you went looking for it.

Ian had seen his share of monsters and he sure as fuck didn’t need to add another one to that long list, so he got what they were doing. To an extent he was actually glad that the only person who talked about it was Mickey because Mickey had seen him at his worse and he was still there so that had to mean something.

As far as Ian was concerned not talking about his past issues was fine because he had his pills and his therapy sessions. He knew his demons by name and he’d be damned before heended up like Monica.

The sad fact was even with all his expertise Ian still missed the fact that he wasn’t the only one suffering and now he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

*O*

Mickey was staring at the TV when Ian got home and the silence was the first thing that clued Ian onto the fact that something wasn’t right.

Svetlana had left four months after Terry got shanked in prison and Ian hadn’t been surprised to find out that the baby who Mickey had thought was his son was actually his half-brother. Mandy was in an on again off again relationship with Lip so more often than not she was at the Gallagher house and the other Milkovich siblings had cleared off to greener pastures.

All of that might have explained the lack of extra bodies in the house but it didn’t explain why Mickey was staring at the blank TV like it held the answer to the question of life.

“What the heck are you staring at?” Ian inquired as he draped himself over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss against Mickey’s dark hair just because he could.

Mickey’s frown reflected on the blank screen and when he glanced up at Ian there was nothing but confusion on his face.

“Who said I was looking at shit?”

Ian cocked a brow at that. “Mickey, you were staring straight at the TV and it’s not even on.”

Mickey bit his lip as he glanced back at the screen before shrugging. “Guess I zoned out.”

Ian hummed beneath his breath because Mickey _had_ been running himself ragged; he probably just needed some sleep.

It was the first sign Ian missed.

*O*

“Mickey, would you just fucking eat the toast?!”

Mandy’s angry voice made Ian glance over at where the siblings were standing in the kitchen. Mandy had a plate of toast held out like an offering but Mickey was glaring at the damn thing like it’d personally offended him.

“Bitch, I told you I ain’t hungry, the fuck is wrong with your ears?” Mickey snapped and Ian rolled his eyes as he turned away from them.

Mandy would wear Mickey down and even if she didn’t Mickey was a grown man; he could find something to eat without someone breathing down his neck.

*O*

When Ian walked in on Mickey staring at the razor he didn’t think anything of it until he saw the blood on the blade.

“What the fuck, Mickey?”

Mickey just shrugged, dropping the razor as he dabbed at a spot just above his Adam’s apple. “I cut myself; it’s not a crime, Firecrotch.”

Ian didn’t say anything and it wasn’t until Mickey had left the bathroom that Ian realized that the place that Mickey had supposedly cut hadn’t been bleeding. That didn’t change the fact that there were splatters of blood on the bathroom sink.

*O*

Ian waited until they were in bed to bring it up.

“We need to talk,” he whispered in the silence and he could already feel Mickey tensing up at his side.

“Talk ‘bout what?”

“Where did you cut yourself, Mickey?”

The question was such a simple one and when Mickey didn’t answer something shattered in Ian’s chest and before he knew it he was sitting up and switching the lights on because he needed to see Mickey’s face. “Mickey, where the fuck did you cut yourself? Because I’ve been staring at you all day and there isn’t even a damn scratch on your face or neck!”

Mickey rubbed at his eyes as he sat up, a heavy sigh rattling from his chest. “We really doing this now, Firecrotch?” he demanded and a part of Ian wanted to back down, to not start this argument because they were just getting their feet back under them but he couldn’t forget the blood on the white surface of the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, we’re doing this now,” he confirmed. “Just show me the cut, Mickey, point it out to me and we can go to bed.”

Mickey’s lips twisted into a sneer at that and Ian knew that things were about to get fucking ugly but that was fine because he was used to things being ugly with Mickey.

“Why should I show you shit? Do you think I’m crazy, Gallagher? Think I’ve tried to fucking slit my wrists?” Mickey spat, flinging the sheets aside as he made to get out of bed but Ian was faster.

Lunging forward he grabbed Mickey’s wrist, ripping the frayed sleeve of the shirt that Mickey had been wearing all day even as he wrestled the other man back onto the bed.

They both froze as Ian stared at the long lines on Mickey’s arm. Some of them were red but the others were nothing but dark scars on Mickey’s skin and Ian’s jaw locked as he clenched his teeth because there it was. He could see the weeks that he’d barely been able to get out of bed, written on the marred skin in front of him and it made him want to just fucking break something.

Mickey’s face was turned away, his eyes closed like there wasn’t shit that Ian could say to fix things…or make them worse.

“Why?”

Ian didn’t even know how the word managed to get past the lump in his throat but he had to know, had to understand because Mickey wasn’t the fucked up one, he was. How the fuck had this happened without Mickey stopping it?

“I don’t know, I just fucking….it made me feel better, alright?”

Ian closed his eyes as he pressed his head against Mickey’s chest, hiding the tears that were burning his eyes.

“We’ll fix this, ok? We…we’ll sort it out,” he whispered and when Mickey’s hand came up to stroke his hair, to comfort _Ian_ even though Mickey was just as broken as he was, Ian’s heart broke.


End file.
